


the one where Patricia's an exhibitionist

by girlpearl



Series: I hate my job ficlets [7]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Boundaries, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Eavesdropping, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, Gender or Sex Swap, Masturbation, Multi, Notfic, Or not, Phone Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlpearl/pseuds/girlpearl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which I natter on about how girl!Patrick and Travis would make the best couple ever and how Pete might cope (or not) with that and then I make whatimages help me porn about my feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where Patricia's an exhibitionist

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as ever to melusina for audiencing, abetting, and generally existing.

The image that I can't get out of my head is Tricia sitting in Travis's lap before a show, arguing with Joe about that one bit in "sugar" while Pete and Travie are trying to remember where that one diner was where they had that pie that time, and they're not even really paying attention to each other, but Travis's fingers are kind of absent-mindedly dragging up and down the inside of her thigh? 

Which isn't really even distracting, at first, because he just does that. One of the things she's had to get used to pretty quickly with Travis is that he's just _always_ touching her. She tried calling him on it once and he told her that every inch of her is perfect and he doesn't see how anybody could be that close to her, could be allowed to touch her and not want to. And it's not like--it's just the guys, Joe and Andy and _Pete_ , for fuck's sake, who probably touches her more than Travis, it's not like they're humping in front of her parents or anything.

But then the tips of his fingers start slipping under the cuffed legs of her denim shorts and he's kind of edging into bathing suit territory here? Which honestly she'd be totally okay with, if they were somewhere a little more private, because Travis has done filthy and frankly life-changing things to her with those fingers, and she's a fan, seriously. But maybe not with Pete ten feet away straightening his hair in a mirror that's more smudge than shine, not with Joe and Andy on the sagging couch throwing jujubes at each other's mouths. 

She opens her mouth to say so, but the breath she takes is shaky and a little higher-pitched than she'd intended because Travis's mouth is suddenly on that spot behind her ear, and his lips are playing along the curve of her ear and his tongue is patting at her neck and his beard is kind of-- _tickle-scratching_ her, and it all adds up to a whole lot of sensation in one of her more sensitive spots, which Travis _knows_ , damn it.

And then he grins against her ear (she can feel him grinning) and starts to tell her about how much he loves teasing her like this, that he can feel how hot she is and that little damp spot on her underwear and the way she's all squirmy and tense against him, and he loves knowing that he's getting her all worked up, that she's soaking her panties because of him. Loves knowing that if he took it just a little further, pressed his fingers up a bit higher and really went for it, he could feel her all wet and slick and hot around him, could feel her shiver when he played with her clit and shudder when he pushed his fingers inside her--

which is when she looks up and sees Pete watching her, mouth hanging open just a little, and Travis chuckles low against her throat and says what a shame it is, though, that he can't do that right now. And she whips around and glares at him because that is a _dick move, seriously_ , and she's seriously contemplating just saying "fuck the show" and going to spend some quality time in her bunk with her own fucking fingers when Pete jumps up and grabs her arm and says "Come on, Trix, can't keep the fans waiting," and Travis gives her a kiss for luck and says, "I'll be watching," in probably the dirtiest voice ever.

Then they probably have loud dirty sex in Pete's bed while he sulks on the couch.

So loud and dirty. And _messy_. His bed smells like them after. 

He doesn't even change the sheets, just buries his face in the pillow and ruts against them until he comes, and it's almost like being part of it.

He totally meant to, but he's so _tired_ and he can't find the bottom sheet and fuck it, he's slept in grosser beds. But he knows what Trish's hair smells like because he's fallen asleep on her shoulder enough times. But now it's mixed with the smell of sex and sweat and he's halfway to coming before it even registers as something he's doing.

That's when he realizes he's fucked. 

Probably there's a part of him that knows, deep down, that all he has to do is say something. But there's a part of him too that's enjoying this, that gets a charge out of seeing Tricia flushed and manic on stage and knowing it's because Travie was going down on her when Pete knocked to tell her it was time to line up. There's something weirdly satisfying about biting her neck onstage, sucking a bruise onto her skin and knowing she'll come later with Travis's mouth pressed against that bruise.

He tries not to be a creeper, honestly, but then there are the nights he can hear them through the thin walls. It's the worst kind of cliché, calling the noises Tricia makes "musical"--she'd never let Pete get away with that kind of lazy writing in his lyrics--but Pete would defy anyone to hear the clear, sweet sound of Tricia crying out as Travie fucks her and not hear a symphony.

And it's weird because, they've been friends for years. Pete's heard her hook up more than a few times, it's just kind of a hazard of tour life. But he's never heard her make noises like that before, be that loud and demanding and unashamed. Pete wonders if that means she's in love with Travie. 

 

I want them to have a hotel night where Travie ties her to the bed and just spends the entire night making her come, over and over again until she's shaking and sobbing and god, he wants to show Pete, wants to go get him and share this with him, watch Pete seeing Tricia like this, his reaction to her overstimulated and undone.

"Can you go again baby?"

Trish blinks at him; it's a hell of a trick getting her eyes to focus. "Are you kidding?"

"Hmm," says Travie into the curve of her neck. He bites down on her collarbone, on top of an old hickey, and she squirms. "You sure about that?"

His fingers are still inside of her, and he curls them up, pressing slow and firm against her g-spot. Trish's head falls back on a sigh and she spreads her thighs a little wider. " _Oh_." 

Travie grins at her. "You sure, baby?"

 

The next morning Tricia's all grumpy-cuddly. She curls up next to Pete on the couch and fists her hand in his hoodie, buries her face in his shoulder. "Mmrgh."

"Long night?" Pete's probably a little more snippy than he'd been aiming for. Maybe she won't notice.

"Fuck you." Maybe she will. "Oh my god, I'm never having sex again."

"Uh, TMI?" Pete tries, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his phone. It's not really. Or it wouldn't have been, before... whatever this is. They're friends, Pete reminds himself, and friends talk about sex.

"Seriously," Tricia groans, ignoring his protest. "My everything hurts."

"I don't want to hear about what Travie did to your everything," Pete says automatically, but it's a _lie_. He wants to hear every last detail. Actually, he kind of wants to see it. And... now his dick is stirring, half-filled out in his jeans, and Tricia's elbow is definitely too close for him to be comfortable with that.

"Lies," Travis announces cheerily, bending down to kiss Tricia on top of her head and hand her a cup of tea, "lies, Wentz, you lie in your bunk every night fantasizing about us, admit it."

Pete goes rigid and can actually feel his skin start to pink. "Don't flatter yourself, McCoy," he manages. 

Travis keeps going but Pete can't hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears; Tricia's gone stiff at his side and he can feel her pull back a little, trying to catch his eye. He focuses intently on his text conversation with mikey about... whatever they're talking about.

"Pete?" 

"Leave it, Trix. It's not a thing." It's totally a thing, but that's not her problem, it's his.

There's a pause and then she settles against his side again, curling her hand around his thigh when she does. Her fingers start to pick at the fraying seam of his battle-worn jeans, and before long they're rubbing back and forth along the ragged fabric. It's not intentional, Pete knows, she's not doing it on purpose, but he can't help thinking about the other night, about Travis's fingers slipping up the leg of her shorts (and that had been one of his most brilliant/self-hating moments in costume design, hadn't it?), the way he'd teased her, the way she'd responded to him, and now here's Tricia doing the same thing to him, and it's just... it's a lot. 

It's probably too much, if she's not doing it on purpose.

He reaches down to push her hand away but somehow his fingers get stuck to hers, not pushing her off, just kind of holding her still. 

"Pete?" she asks again, finally, when he doesn't move.

"Don't..." he can't make himself ask her not to touch him, which is probably how the truth slips out. "Don't tease me."

Which is when Travis sits down behind him and wraps an arm around his chest. "Aw, now what fun would that be?" he murmurs against Pete's neck.

 

So it's kind of been established that this is a thing they're doing, but they're not doing it *yet,* so when the tour's over Pete goes home to LA & Tricia goes to Chicago and spends a lot of time flying to NYC. And every time she does, Pete gets a text from Travie. 

"talked about you last night. Tricia wants us both to fuck her at the same time." or "fucked her up against the wall, those thighs, Jesus, and when she came she was sobbing your name." 

The best/worst time is when he gets a phone call from Tricia while he's watching Drag Race; he mutes Ru Paul and answers and Tricia's just gasping, groaning and whimpering and begging, "Pete, Pete, oh, fuck, Travis, Pete, _please._ " 

He's got his hand shoved into his jeans before he can stop to think about it and then she tells him, "Fuck, Pete, you gotta-he won't let me come until you do, we want to hear you," and it's only fair.

Pete drags it out as long as he can, but Tricia's voice is hot like honey and she's telling him what Travis is doing, what he feels like inside her, his mouth on her breasts, how her thighs are aching from being wrapped around his waist, and Pete just has time to grunt, "Trix, fuck, I'm," and she's sobbing in relief, her voice circling higher as Travis finally brings her off. 

And then it's all three of them on the phone, breathless and ragged, and Tricia's giggling, and Travis says, "Why aren't you here already?" and Pete doesn't really have an answer for that anymore.

 

Tricia's staying with Pete in LA while they do some writing, but when Travis flies out for a visit she makes noises about getting a hotel. Pete, having had his sense of self-preservation surgically removed ages ago, won't hear of it. Which is how he ends up lying in bed, listening to his best friends & two of the most beautiful people he's ever met having loud, enthusiastic sex. Every night. For a week.

He does a lot of jerking off, and privately thinks of it as active listening.

On Thursday, they're all tired, and after dinner they just pile on the couch to veg out in front of a movie. The Avengers is sufficiently mindless and there are plenty of explosions, but it's not quite enough to keep Pete from noticing when, halfway through the movie, Trish starts taking little hitching breaths, not loud enough even to call a "gasp" but definitely... not silent. 

He does his best to ignore it but soon she starts making noises, little bitten-off moans, and his libido's primed from a week of hearing those noises and touching himself. Whatever, it's not the weirdest or most awkward situation in which he's gotten hard, but his imagination keeps wandering, wondering, are they kissing, is Travis touching her, what's she wearing under her clothes, is Travis hard like he is, what would Trish taste like if he kissed her, would Travis's hands feel like his own on him or totally different--and he's been shifting, squirming on the couch, and probably they're too wrapped up in each other to notice, and he'll just, it'll be quick, and he reaches down and gives his dick a little squeeze, just trying to get more comfortable, but kind of also a promise for later.

And probably they keep going like this for a bit, Pete pretending he can't hear them and they can't see him, until one of Tricia's little wordless noises isn't wordless, and hearing her moan his name is--he about gives himself whiplash turning to look, and worth it, totally worth it, because Tricia's splayed in Travis's lap, her hair's disheveled and her shirt is unbuttoned low enough that he can see the pale curve of her breasts. Travis's mouth is swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded, watching Pete as he whispers against her ear. 

Tricia's eyes are wide and when Pete meets them, she says his name again. He looks up at Travis, who says, "up to you, bruh," softly, and he's known that all this time, but when it comes to actually having to make the choice, it's the easiest thing he's ever done to slide off the couch and kneel in front of them, to kiss the inside of Tricia's thigh and, when Travis puts a hand on his shoulder, to turn and kiss his palm. 

(and then Pete hikes up her skirt a little and Travis pulls her arms up around his neck and unbuttons her shirt the rest of the way & plays with her tits while Pete eats her out, and when she comes, shuddering and yelling and arching up between them, Travis drops a hand to the back of Pete's neck and tells him, "good, you did so good," and Pete just takes a second to catch his breath and then says, "Travis, please, fuck me.")

 

Trish fingering him open so, so slow and gentle. He doesn't need her to be that gentle, says as much, but she just laughs at him and bites at the back of his neck. Travie is stroking his own dick, biting down on his lip a little, just watching them. It's so strange, after all this time, to be on the other side of it, to be the one on display. It makes him want to preen and arch, prove he can be as good for them as they've been to him. 

Trish's other hand curves around his torso, pinching at his nipple and teasing over his belly. He's so fucking hard he's leaking, and Trish swipes her thumb over the wet head of his dick; it startles a moan out of him, and she presses her damp thumb to his lips. He licks it clean, tasting himself, and Travie's eyes go huge in his head.

"Fuck, baby," Travie whispers, and Pete's not sure if he's talking to Trish or to him. "Want you to suck my dick, can you?" and that answers that question, but Pete can't think about it beyond a spreading warmth on his chest because he's already pitching forward, taking Travie's dick as deep as he can in one go. He almost chokes, and Travie draws him gently back by the hair. 

"Easy, easy," he says, drawing Pete in again, guiding him to take Travie's cock just a little deeper. Trish presses in hard against his prostate and Pete moans shamelessly on Travie's cock. This is how they fuck him, a gentle, easy rhythm between them, Trish's fingers and Travie's cock filling him up, pushing him back and forth between them like some kind of perpetual motion machine until Pete can't feel anything that isn't them.


End file.
